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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137704">I Know You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil'>CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Backdoor Destiel, F/M, M/M, Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:28:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Dean was never cured of being a demon and Crowley took over the world with the help of Vampires, Werewolves, and Shifters. Dean’s spent five years not giving a damn about the state of the world and no one has seen Sam in years.</p>
<p>Dean doesn’t care about Hell, even now that it’s come to Earth. He doesn’t care about anything, really. So what will he do when a huntress shows up to try to make him care again?<br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/>Oh, let’s give her another look. She’s got a cute profile, pistol tucked, knives strapped to her ankle and left wrist…anti-possession tat peeking out from the back of her neck. Hunter. What a treat.</p>
<p>“So…you just happen to recognize my car or were you looking for me?”</p>
<p>“I was just lucky, I guess, stumbling onto this monstrosity of black metal.”</p>
<p>I lick my lips and smile at her. “Seems I’m at a disadvantage here. You obviously know me, but I got no clue who you are.”</p>
<p>“We’ve never met so you wouldn’t know me,” she snaps.</p>
<p>“But you know me. What, by reputation? Through hunter grapevine?” I ask, stepping closer. She still hasn’t moved. She’s not nervous about a Knight of Hell approaching her?</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know you, Dean Winchester.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Secondhand Knowledge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Pairing</b>: background Demon!Dean x OMC</p>
<p><b>Story Warnings</b>: show-level violence, copious use of the word bitch, bit of post-apocalyptic angst</p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p>I drive into Montgomery and pull into a bar. A lot of things shut down when Crowley used the monsters to take over the world, but every city’s still got a few bars. Gotta have a place to sin, even in 2020. Especially in 2020.</p>
<p>I park and head inside. Damn. The place is damn-near empty. Slim pickin’s when it comes to bitches. I’ll have a few drinks and hope something hotter shows itself. If not…I’m sure I can put a pillow over someone’s head.</p>
<p>I take a seat at the bar and order a tequila. When the bartender asks for money, I set the First Blade on the bartop. “I’m sure you got a demon discount, amiright?”</p>
<p>He nods nervously and pours me a drink. If there’s one good thing about the shit Crowley pulled, it’s that everyone knows black eyes mean business. He pours me another one as soon as I’m dry. And another and another.</p>
<p>A group of vamps walk in and I roll my eyes. I can smell ‘em from here. They’ve got rules though; can’t feed except certain times and places, can’t turn anybody without express consent from King Crowley and the Alpha because God forbid all the food supply dies out from an overzealous vampire population. So, they’re not here for lunch. They’re here for a drink or they’re here for-</p>
<p>“Winchester. King Crowley requests your presence.”</p>
<p>That.</p>
<p>I turn to 'em. There’s four of them. Crowley <em>cannot </em>still be underestimating me. Not after all these years. I burp in the face of the one closest to me. “Pass.”</p>
<p>“Listen here, you hunter piece-”</p>
<p>My eyes go black as I pick up the Blade. The Mark pulses on my arm at the promise of a fight. “<em>Hard </em>pass, fellas, and if you keep pushin’ me, you’re gonna lose your heads. I’m sure no one wants that.”</p>
<p>The only chick in the group puts a hand on the shoulder of the closest vamp and steps closer. “Come on, Dean. If we go back without you, we’re losing our heads anyway. Crowley wants to talk. You’ve obviously got time to talk.”</p>
<p>“Crowley doesn’t wanna <em>talk</em>, sweetheart,” I argue. “Crowley wants to try to convince me, <em>again</em>, that I should join his little boy band. Two Alphas obviously aren’t enough support for His Highness but I’m in no mood to try to take Hanson and turn it into the Beatles so you can run off back to New York and tell Crowley to eat me.”</p>
<p>Five years of this shit. Five years of his 'plans’. I give absolutely zero fucks in regard to his stupid plans. I want food. I want alcohol. I want to kill a few motherfuckers every once in a while…and I want sex. Good sex preferably, but I’m not picky. A hole’s a hole.</p>
<p>“We can’t go back empty-handed.”</p>
<p>“Then you don’t go back,” I say before letting the Blade slice through the air. Four heads hit the floor before any of them have a chance to move. Damn, that was anticlimactic. I was hopin’ for a little fight. I shrug and turn back to the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Could I get another one?”</p>
<p>Two hours later, I’m walking out with a twinky little guy who’s shaking in his hot pants with fear and arousal. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m gonna kill him after I’m done with him and I might, but…doesn’t really matter because some bitch is sitting on the hood of my car, kicking her feet against the grill.</p>
<p>“Oh, sweetheart, you picked the <em>wrong </em>car.”</p>
<p>“‘67 Chevy Impala, obsolete Ohio plates: CNK 80Q3. Pretty sure it’s the <em>right </em>car,” she says, not looking at me.</p>
<p>Oh, let’s give her another look. She’s got a cute profile, pistol tucked, knives strapped to her ankle and left wrist…anti-possession tat peeking out from the back of her neck. Hunter. What a treat.</p>
<p>I pat twinky-boy’s back and push him back toward the bar. “Might be your lucky night, kid. Go find someone else to take you home.” I step off the curb as he runs back into the building. “So…you just happen to recognize my car or were you looking for me?”</p>
<p>She turns to look at me and there’s fire in those pretty eyes. She’s <em>pissed</em>! Wonder what I did. “I was just lucky, I guess, stumbling onto this monstrosity of black metal.”</p>
<p>I lick my lips and smile at her. “Seems I’m at a disadvantage here. You obviously know me, but I got no clue who you are.”</p>
<p>“We’ve never met so you wouldn’t know me,” she snaps.</p>
<p>“But you know me. What, by reputation? Through hunter grapevine?” I ask, stepping closer. She still hasn’t moved. She’s not nervous about a Knight of Hell approaching her?</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know you, Dean Winchester.” She’s analyzing my manner and movements now. I can see her eyes scanning me just like mine did her.</p>
<p>“Oh, do you? What do you know about me, huh?”</p>
<p>“I know you used to be the man who saved the world…and now you’re the demon that doesn’t care what happens to it.” She jumps down off the hood and squares her shoulders. She’s adorable. She really thinks she can step to me? “This is what you went against Lucifer for? To let <em>Crowley </em>take the Earth?”</p>
<p>“No, I went against Lucifer to keep my brother out of his clutches. I went against Lucifer to-”</p>
<p>“You went against Lucifer, refused to say 'yes’ to Michael because you didn’t want half of the planet to burn. Don’t act dumb.“ She’s got balls. I like that. "Just because you don’t care now doesn’t mean you get to act like you never did.”</p>
<p>“And why, exactly, does it matter what I care about?” I ask.</p>
<p>“You know, you used to be an inspiration,” she spits out. “You and your brother, the ones who said 'Fuck Fate’ and went your own way. The hunters who spat in the face of Archangels and now look at you. Sam’s a hermit and <em>you</em>, well you’re your own worst enemy.”</p>
<p>I laugh. “I always <em>have </em>been.” I cross a leg over the other and lean against the hood. “So, you’re a hunter. Are you one of the little thorns in Crowley’s side or are you runnin’ the hamster wheel, tryin’ to keep as many people alive as you can even though you know they’re just as dead as you are in the end?”</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes. “The only hunters insane enough to go against the King are both out of commission.”</p>
<p>“Ah, I see what you did there. You’re talkin’ ‘bout me and Sammy.” I let out a thoughtful hum. “‘Out of commission’ is a real funny way to say ‘got tired of getting killed for people who were too stupid and complacent to keep their own asses out of trouble’.”</p>
<p>“Oh, please, if it weren’t for the murder mark on your arm, you’d have never stopped fighting. And ‘stupid and complacent’? They were uninformed, ignorant <em>maybe</em>, but not stupid! How fast did they pick up the silver and salt once they realized what was happening? There’d be no one left if they hadn’t rolled with the rules of their new world.” Ooh, she’s gettin’ fired up. That’s kinda hot. “Look around you, Dean! You really wanted the world to be <em>this</em>? This is what you got the Mark of Cain for? To <em>become </em>Abaddon and let the world go to Hell?”</p>
<p>She knows a lot about me. She knows a lot more than she should from hunter grapevine.</p>
<p>“You’ve been talkin’ to my brother, haven’t you?”</p>
<p>“Sam doesn’t <em>talk </em>to anybody anymore. Sam doesn’t leave the Bunker and rarely allows anyone in.” She licks her lips and smiles tightly. “Sometimes, if I’m lucky, he answers an email.”</p>
<p>“And how’d you get Sam’s email address?”</p>
<p>“Garth Fitzgerald. Remember him?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” String-bean, lanky motherfucker got bit by a wolf. “But I still don’t remember <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>“Like I said-” she starts.</p>
<p>“We haven’t met,” I interrupt. “Yeah. So why are you here, bitch? Why put yourself in front of me?”</p>
<p>She sighs and looks away. “I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping…”</p>
<p>“Oh! Hope,” I laugh mockingly and push off the car, stepping in front of her. “You were hoping, what?”</p>
<p>She glares up at me. “That there was some Dean Winchester left in you.”</p>
<p>Well…why does that look in her eyes do something to me? <em>What </em>is that look doin’ to me? “100% Dean Winchester, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>She shakes her head. “No. Dean would give a fuck. Dean would care.”</p>
<p>“Caring never did me much good.”</p>
<p>“Caring was the biggest part of your personality.”</p>
<p>“You don’t <em>know </em>me!” I growl and my eyes go black. She doesn’t flinch.</p>
<p>“I know you,” she repeats. “I know you better than you think…and better than you seem to.”</p>
<p>“Doubt it.”</p>
<p>She chuckles. “You aren’t even you anymore, Dean.”</p>
<p>I don’t know why, but that fuckin’ burns. ‘Not even me’? Really? “I am. I am every bit of Dean Winchester I have <em>always </em>been.”</p>
<p>She steps away from me, backwards, keeping her eyes on the demon in front of her. “No, I don’t think you are. And it’s not just the black in your eyes or the mark on your forearm. It’s your soul. You still have one, but you really let that thing get all twisted up, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“Twisted up, dark as night, just like my pretty eyes. Now, you really don’t think I’m gonna let you walk away, do you?”</p>
<p>“You got your murder fix with the vamps a couple hours ago. You don’t need me.”</p>
<p>“Oh but you could satisfy some of my other needs. Not often I meet a chick that can keep up and I’m pretty damn sure that <em>you </em>could.”</p>
<p>She laughs. “I definitely could keep up, Dean. But I don’t fuck around with evil.”</p>
<p>She pulls open the door to her car and I could chase her down. I could stop her easily, but…I think I’ll let her go. “Can I get your name at least? Since you know me so well, don’t I deserve that much?”</p>
<p>She turns back to me and licks her lips. “It’s Y/n!” she shouts before getting in the driver’s seat.</p>
<p>I just watch as she drives off. Y/n. Research time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tell Me About Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Summary</strong>: Dean goes in search of information on Y/n.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Story Warnings</strong>: show-level violence, bit of post-apocalyptic angst, mentions of character deaths,</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Are you just gonna keep killing everyone I send to retrieve you?" Crowley asks, popping up in my hotel room.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>I sit up and run my hand through my hair. "Eventually you'll stop sending monsters to feed the Mark. Can't imagine your Alpha buddies like their children losing their heads."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Why do you think I'm here now, Dean?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"You're lookin' for a baritone to really round out the sound of Crowley and the Dickbags?" I guess. "But I told ya, I'm a solo act."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Why are you still being stubborn about this?" He's about to get all assed up. Watch. Shouting in three, two… "You're a bloody Knight of Hell! You're supposed to be with your <em>King</em>! You're supposed to support me!"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Nah. Not my bag." He hates when I get all nonchalant about being his butt buddy.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Your bag is murder!” he argues. “Why won't you just murder in service to your king?!"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"You ain't my king, asshat. And I don't service anyone except myself.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I’m <em>everyone’s </em>King, Winchester!” I look at him boredly and pull the First Blade out from under my pillow. He wants to step back, but he won’t. Can’t show weakness. Idiot. “We were a great team. Why won’t you-”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Because I don’t want to, you slimy little prick. I’m gonna say it again, for the umpteenth time, you told me to ‘pick a bloody side’ and I did.” I stand up, Blade in my hand and black in my eyes. “I picked <em>my </em>bloody side...and I’m not gonna change my mind just because you think I picked wrong. You got a problem with the word ‘no’, don’t you? Don’t hear it much, huh?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He sighs and shakes his head. “You should be at my side. Not driving around, fucking and drinking your way across America. You could have all the women and booze you want in New York.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Nah. I’m good. Get out. Now.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You’ll change your mind, eventually,” he says before disappearing.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Yeah, fuck you too, Crowley.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I stick around long enough to have a drink and a sandwich and then I head for Kentucky. There’s a hunter bar there. Last one in the country if I’m hearin’ right. They won’t be happy to see me, but they’ll get over it. I just need a little information. Don’t wanna kill any of ‘em...but I will if I must.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s salt along the doorway. I can see the hunters stepping over it...oh so carefully. So I’m not going in. Probably got Devil’s Traps inside, too. Great.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I park and sit on the hood cross legged. I turn on some music and wait for somebody to come outside. It only takes about half an hour before they start looking through the windows, sawed-off shotguns in their hands.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on, fellas! I just wanna talk!” I shout.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck off, demon!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I roll my eyes at the original response and hop off the hood, raising my hands over my head. “Look, I don’t have any weapons on me. I just want a little information!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A short, skinny mother walks out, stepping over the salt line with his shotgun raised. “What information, Winchester?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Reputation preceding me with everybody, huh?” I say, keeping my hands up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ve spoken before. Mackey. I was friends with Bobby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mackey. That’s right. “You sent me toward Emmanuel when my brother was in the nuthouse, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right. What do you want?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Four-one-one on a hunter named Y/n,” I start before giving a brief description of her and her car. “Crossed paths with her a couple days ago.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And why would I tell you about her? I know what happened to you. Jody Mills told us all about it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is Jody in there? Maybe she’d be willing to give me a bit-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s gone, Dean.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Well, that sucks. “Look. I’m just curious, okay? I’m not trying to hurt her or anything. She stepped to me like she’s got a death wish, so I’m just intrigued.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mackey licks his lips and drops his aim. I drop my arms in return. “Her parents bit it when she was young: ghost possession. She saw it happen. She started hunting before she was even eighteen. She’s stubborn, fierce, determined to do what’s right and her moral compass has just gotten better with age. She’s one of the most badass hunters I’ve ever had the pleasure of fighting beside. She moves like...like she belongs in an action movie, especially since the Apocalypse. Of course she stepped to you, but it’s not because she has a death wish. It’s because she cares about the world and she’s willing to do anything she can to fix this mess. She’s not the only one to float the idea that a Knight of Hell with the First Blade might be the only one who can do a damn thing about Crowley since the Angels all decided to fuck off back to Heaven and lock it down. She’s just the only one stupid and stubborn enough to approach you about it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That must be why she was hoping to see some bit of the old me. But did she just know about me from a few emails from Sam?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, you’ve hunted with her before? She hunt with anybody else I’d know?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mackey takes a step back over the salt line and puts his hand on the door. He’s about to shut me out. “You used to be friends with that Angel, didn’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Castiel?” I ask and he nods.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She was fighting beside him when he went down.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Huh. I didn’t know Cas died. “What got him?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Demons,” Mackey says before shutting the door. Fine. I got what I needed. She knew Cas.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I get in the car and sit for a minute. Haven’t thought about Cas in a while. Didn’t think he would have gotten taken down by demons, though. Figured him for going down against something big. Somethin’ like me. Kinda sucks some rando demons got ‘im. Hmmm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I turn the engine over and pull out. Got my info. Time to find the girl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I find her in Albuquerque. Shifters causing problems in the suburbs, Crowley’s not doing anything to control his monsters so it’s still on hunters. She’s in the sewers when I find her and I gotta say...Mackey’s assessment is spot on. She’s got four shifters on her, all wearing the same face to confuse her, I’m sure. She moves like a gymnast. A ballerina, maybe?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s got an angel blade in her right hand, slashes at one, now it’s in her left, slashes at another while her foot slams into the jaw of the first one. Number three tries to sweep her leg, but she just jumps it and lands on his knee. I can hear his knee crack from here. He’s screaming in pain when her blade plunges into his temple. He’s gone. Three left.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She cartwheels away to regroup and faces them. They rush her and her knife practically flies out of her hand, embedding in one of their throats. Two down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two left grab her by her arms and force her into the wall behind her but she just jumps in the air and wraps her legs around their necks, bashing their heads together and forcing them to the ground. She grabs one by the head and twists. That’s three.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I’m standing behind it when she turns to deal with the last one, First Blade already in its back, life draining from it. She looks surprised to see me, eyes wide and pretty with shock.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dean.” She swallows and stands. “What are you doing here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I pull the Blade out of the thing and smile at the sick squelching sound it makes before I drop the shifter to the ground. “I was feelin’ a little nostalgic for the old days of crawlin’ around sewage systems, killing things that need killin’. Imagine my surprise when I saw you were here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You followed me,” she accuses, brushing her hands off on her jeans.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Found </em>you, not followed,” I correct, tucking the Blade in the back of my own. “Had to do a little research and recon first. You know how it is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“‘Research and recon’, huh? Into me?” she asks, stepping away from me to retrieve her angel blade.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yep. You take that off’a Cas after you let him die?” I ask, mostly just to see her reaction. She stiffens at the mention and then she yanks it out of the shifter’s neck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, this has <em>been </em>mine...and ya know, maybe those demons wouldn’t have gotten the best of us if we’d had a bit of backup.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How’d <em>you </em>manage to get out when the Angel couldn’t?” I ask, and I make sure to keep my tone conversational. She glares at me and I shrug. “Hey, it’s a valid question, <em>I</em> think. Angel of the Lord, celestial being with thousands of years of battle training. Tiny human hunter with a half a dozen years of ballet and a pretty smile.” I weigh them out in my hands and give her a smirk. “The one that shoulda survived is pretty obvious, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Castiel saved me...and you seem to forget, he was dying when you let Metatron and the Mark of Cain turn you into <em>this</em>,” she practically spits. "He was barely hanging onto his Grace. But he still fought. Because he cared about what was happening to the world...unlike someone."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's really stuck on that shit, isn’t she?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Okay, yeah. You’re right. I'm not the 'care about the world' guy anymore. But maybe, I'm-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"No, Dean, you never were. You were the 'care about everyone' guy. You were simple gestures and saving graces. You were a good man...and you let yourself become...nothing. A nothing human being adding absolutely-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm not a human being, Y/n. I'm a demon."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're in your own body. You've got your own soul. You're only a demon because you want to be. That makes you a <em>shitty </em>human being."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damn. This bitch. I like this bitch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"People don't generally get away with talking to me like that, sweetheart."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Kill me if you want. If not, I need a shower and a beer," she says, tucking her angel blade inside of her jacket and walking out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I follow her back toward the closest manhole. Not gonna kill her. Something about her...just so...interesting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I watch as she climbs the metal rungs to the street. Nice ass. Hmmm. She's walking away by the time I get out of the manhole. "So, was I right?" I ask, catching up pretty easily. She cuts her eyes at me sideways and shakes her head like she doesn't know what I mean. "Ballet?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Gymnastics," she responds.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That was my second guess. Comes in handy on hunts?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"More than ballet would." She stops just short of her car and turns to me. "Why are you following me?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You've been gnawing at my curiosity since Montgomery. You seem to think you know me so well off'a what you've heard from my brother and Cas. You act like I was this...saint-like, altruistic 'good man' when I have <em>always </em>been a killer. So...tell me about me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She lets out this little scoff and a tiny head-shake. "'Always been a killer'," she whispers like she can't believe I said that. Her lips move like she's trying to find the words to respond to me. Determination crosses her face after a minute. "Okay. Fine. You said you're feeling nostalgic? You want me to tell you about you? Fine. You an' me, we're going on job. There's an overgrown vamps' nest in Santa Ana. We'll drive out together. I'll tell you my secondhand stories and you can hear all about yourself...and then you can kill some vampires...and then go back to doing whatever the fuck you want."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I always do whatever the fuck I want." I step closer to her and smile. "But sure. I can take down some vamps, listen to an epic road-trip tale. Sounds fun. Shower and beer first, right? Ya hungry? I'll stop and grab some burgers, too."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Marty's Motor Inn. Room 124. Don't forget the bacon." She disappears into her old Mercury and peels off before I can respond. All right, then.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I get burgers and take them to the motel, pick the lock on her door. She's getting out of the shower when I enter and she's got the bathroom door open just enough for me to catch peeks of her skin. Shit. She's good-looking. I take a seat at the half-broke table with the nasty green top and start pulling food out of the bag.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Don't eat my fries, Dean," she says before I even have a chance to think about grabbing a few.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Wouldn't think of it."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Right," she says, disbelieving. Guess she does know me a bit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So, whose car are we takin' to Cali? Mine's got more room, but she eats gas like a fat kid eats cake."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Or a first-born son with mommy issues eats pie?" she snaps as she walks out of the bathroom. Ooh. Kitty's definitely got claws. "We'll take the Mercury."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Works for me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You don't have a problem leaving the Impala here without you?" she asks as she sits down across from me and pulls open her styrofoam container.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Nah. S'just a car." She blinks at me a few times. Obviously wasn’t expecting that answer. "Problem?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shakes her head and looks down at her burger. "That’s not just a car. That has never been <em>just </em>a car."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yeah, sweetheart, it is. It’s just a car. Four wheels and an engine."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That <em>car</em>…" She's spitting venom again. "...was your home. That car helped Sam wrest control back from Lucifer when he was beating you to death. That car is a symbol." She scoffs and picks up a French fry. "Just like you used to be."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're so invested in who I used to be."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Because the man you used to be wouldn't have let things get this bad."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hey, what are you complaining about? Crowley hasn't changed much." I lean forward and catch her eyes. "In fact, made your job easier, didn't he? You don't gotta roll into town and put on a fake fed suit to get to the bottom of whatever skel's doing the damage. You just gotta ready up and go in because now everybody knows what goes bump in the night."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Where’s the death toll standing? Was it, I think, 2.4 billion dead or turned last I checked. How many of those would have gone to Heaven but couldn't because Heaven shut the gates?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Seems like you ought to be pissed at the Angels, not me."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scoffs and glares down at the table. "I've got enough anger for both."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I can't control where the souls go any more than I can control what Crowley does."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You could have stopped him. You chose not to do anything."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>True. I shoulda ganked that bastard years ago. "Can't argue that." I pull open my own styrofoam container and lick my lips. She's avoiding looking at me again. "We'll store the <em>symbol </em>somewhere safe, if it's that important to you, sweetheart."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She just nods. She's a tough nut, isn’t she? A mystery. The first interesting thing to happen in years. Can't wait to crack 'er open.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Grasping at Straws (and Catching Some)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Summary</strong>: Dean let’s Y/n tell him stories about him. And stories about her.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Story Warnings</strong>: bit of post-apocalyptic angst, mentions of character deaths, <strong>18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!</strong>, unprotected sex,</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Y/n’s Mercury is fast. My car’s faster, but the Mercury is a lot more inconspicuous. Quieter too. She’s told me a couple stories about my ‘legacy’. She started with the story of the Samhain thing. Had to have heard that from Cas. “Refused to trade a thousand two hundred fourteen people for a Seal on Lucifer’s Cage,” she said. She knew exactly how many people were in that town. Crazy. Only Cas would have quoted her the exact number. Weird that she <em>remembers </em>the exact number though.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Oh, and Anna Milton!" she exclaims and my eyebrows go up.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Good lay. What about 'er?" Great lay, actually.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"When you found her, you didn't know a thing about her. You didn't know she was a fallen Angel. You just knew she was in danger, scared, an innocent with demons after her for something that she couldn't control, right?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Yeah, but she turned out to be-"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"But you didn’t know that when you stood between her and two Angels of the Lord. You didn't know her, but you cared enough to risk your life against two of the most powerful creatures God ever created."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She's right. I did that.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"She was hot," I dismiss. "Couldn't let a body like that get her eyes blown out with Angel Power. Thought I might get some if I survived...and I was right."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She rolls her eyes in this big fuckin' exaggerated gesture but she doesn't argue with me. "Fine. What about Jesse? The antichrist?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"What about him?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Castiel wanted to kill him...for the good of the world so the demons couldn't use him against you all...and you wouldn't let him."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"He was just a kid." The words come out automatically and shit, that sounds a little too righteous. Too 'old me'.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He was arguably the strongest supernatural entity on earth at that moment and you gave him choice. Choice no one else was prepared to give the boy."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I never had one." I wish my mouth would stop that shit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Exactly. You never had a choice as a child so you always tried to make sure others did. Even potentially evil, powerful creatures."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yeah, that's true.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I lick my bottom lip and bite down on it. She's moving on to Michael and the Angels pressuring me to say 'yes'. Moving on to me trying to keep Adam out of the Angels' hands even though I barely knew the little bastard. Then she’s moving backward a bit, back when I was 26 or 27 and I got zapped by the taser putting down that rawhead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Layla Rourke is a name I haven’t thought of in a dozen years. “To save one man, a man who’d done nothing wrong, you condemned a woman to die of her brain tumor.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Doesn’t seem like I cared,” I argue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You told her you’d pray.” She looks over and does this half head-tilt, half look of pity.  "An <em>atheist </em>who thought Angels were just Hallmark cards and tree toppers, told a dying woman he would pray for her...for no reason other than to make her feel a bit of faith in the future. And you can’t argue it's that she was hot because that tumor meant she would be dead before your next pass through and you never even <em>tried </em>to sleep with her."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I <em>can't </em>argue it. "So?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So you cared, Dean.” I let out a soft sigh. “And I bet you actually did send a prayer upwards for her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And I bet she died anyway.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gives me this look that says she knows something, but she doesn’t say anything. She just moves on again. I like hearing her talk. I like hearing her talk about <em>me</em>. I like the way she smiles just a little and pauses in the middle of her sentence like she’s remembering the moment herself, even though she was never a part of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Coming up on Santa Ana. Nest is in a warehouse on the outskirts,” she says as we approach but I’m not worried about the nest. I’m not worried about the vamps. I’m having too much fun. Just road-tripping with this chick, listening to her talk, listening to her stories of the man I used to be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She parks outside the warehouse and looks over at me. “What?” Why does it feel so natural when she stares at me like that? It’s not uncomfortable at all.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing. Let’s go,” she says before pushing open her door and pulling open the trunk. “I <em>will</em>. Be quiet,” I hear her whisper as I get out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Y’okay, sweetheart?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m fine, Dean,” she snaps, grabbing a duffel and shutting the trunk before I can even get a look in it. She tilts her head and looks up at me as she twists her machete in her hand. “Do you need one of these or are you going to use your precious First Blade?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m good,” I answer, pulling the Blade out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Figured. You <em>need </em>it,” she spits and starts walking away toward the door. ‘Need’?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Excuse me?” My eyebrows shoot up and she turns back to me. “I don’t <em>need </em>to use the First Blade. I <em>like </em>to use the First Blade.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah?” she challenges, offering me the black-handled machete in her hand. “Use this, then. Put the jaw of the ass in the glove box and use a hunter’s weapon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I look at her machete for a minute. I don’t wanna leave the Blade in the car. I don’t wanna be without it, but...I guess that’s the point she’s tryin’ to make, isn’t it? Haven’t been without the damn thing since Crowley put it in my hand and curled my fingers around the handle. Haven’t even thought about leaving it behind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I lick my lips and take the machete, tossing the First Blade into the back seat and stubbornly refusing to look back at it. But I can feel it. I can feel it behind me as she pulls out a second machete and we start toward the door. It’s been five goddamn years. What am I without that Blade?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The answer to that turns out to be, still a damn fine hunter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The nest is seven strong. Big guys, older vamps. Y/n and I work together. It seems almost choreographed, how we move through the monsters. It’s a damn dance and I feel like I should've forgotten the moves but I never did. Five years and a new partner, a new me, but the moves are just the same.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>We wipe 'em out in twenty minutes. No survivors, no problems. "You want me to drop you back in Albuquerque?" she asks as we walk out to her car. "Or you gonna get back your own-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You got another job to rush to?" I ask and she stops in her tracks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What's it matter?" she responds defensively.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Just...maybe I don’t need to go back to New Mexico just yet." I shrug and point at the building with the machete. "I had fun in there. I had fun listening to you ramble on the way here."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She blinks a few times and then looks away. "I don't know if I have much more rambling to do about you, Dean. I think I've told all the stories I have."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"That’s okay. You've told me all about me. Now you can tell me all about <em>you</em>."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks my way and tilts her head, eyebrows scrunching together as she looks at me. “Why would you want to hear about me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I shrug. “Maybe I care. Maybe I’m bored. I don’t know. Don’t question it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gets a far-away look in her eyes, her lips twitch a few times, then she nods. “Fine. Get in. I’ll call around and see if anybody’s got a job they need done.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Awesome.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I look into the backseat and see the First Blade. I want to pick it up, tuck it back where it belongs, but...I don’t because I don’t need it. I drop her duffel bag on top of it in the back seat and move to sit in the front. She calls out to a few other hunters, finds a skinwalker in Utah. We have another fourteen hour road trip. She tells me all about her first hunts and she’s animated and talking with her hands. She’s kinda...adorable, how she’s making her own sound effects to go with her tales.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I notice she stares at me when she thinks I’m not looking. Not in an especially lustful way, either. That’s what I’m used to but her eyes go all weird when she looks at me. I like it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don’t use the First Blade, but the skinwalker doesn’t give us any more issues than the vampires did. I don’t even ask about staying before I get back in her shotgun seat. She glares at me, but then she pulls up her email and says, “You good to go on a Wendigo?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I can tell she’s exhausted by the time we make it to Bend, Oregon. So, I tell her to pull into a hotel. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head, looking from the sign that says ‘Tetherow Hotel’ to me. “I can’t afford a hotel like this, Dean.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I laugh and nod toward the parking lot. “You don’t need to afford anything, Y/n. Just park.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She does what I ask and I get out of the car before she’s even turned the thing off. The concierge smiles at me as soon as I walk in and I smile back as I let my eyes go black. “Hey. I need a room. Single King on the corner and I need you to pull the sofa out as fast as you can.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh. That’s an...interesting request,” she says, obviously nervous.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not a request. Am I clear?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right. We’ll get the sofa out right now,” she says, picking up the desk phone. She tells someone to ‘pull the sofa from 415 right now’ and then clears her throat and looks up at me. “D-do you have a credit-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You really think I plan to pay, sweetheart?” I ask and she swallows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. Of course not. Um, let me just get you a key made up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Take your time. I gotta make sure there’s only one bed in there before my girl gets to the room.” ‘My girl’. When did that happen? I look over my shoulder to see Y/n standing at the back of the car with the trunk open. “And it’s a given that I don’t want you to mention it to her, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right,” she squeaks as Y/n approaches with her duffel bag over her shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I turn and smile, my eyes going back to green. “Good news, Y/n. They got a room.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s good,” she says, nodding and smiling at the nervous concierge.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Unfortunately, they only got one with a single King. You’re all right with that, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes go wide and then she looks at her feet. “Demons don’t sleep, right? We only need the one bed.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I chuckle. “Wrong, sweetheart. Demons sleep <em>less </em>but we still need a few winks every once in a while...and I’m feelin’ the need. You don’t mind, do you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolls her eyes dramatically and sighs. “Of course not. I’m already sharing a car and jobs with a demon, why not a bed?” She looks at the concierge expectantly. “Keys?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re just doing a few last-minute preparations in the room. We’ll, uh, just a minute. Just a few minutes. Please.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve been sleeping in a car for a week, so please, a little speed would be appreciated, miss.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So polite,” I tease and Y/n rolls her eyes again. “You know she’s not used to the manners.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Definitely not with demons walking up to her desk,” Y/n snaps, shaking her head and rolling her head to let some of the stress out of her shoulders.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ooh. Sassy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks at me with a look between confusion and anger. “I’m sorry. Are you flirting with me?” She scoffs and looks away. “Do you <em>really </em>think this is the appropriate time for that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you really think I care about appropriate?” I respond.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, of course you don’t,” she says, sounding tired. The concierge gives us our key cards and we go up to the fourth floor. I can see where the sofa used to be and Y/n stops to stare at the empty spot. “You’d think there’d be a couch.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’d think,” I agree as I sit on the end of the bed and start to untie my boots. “But the bed’s big enough for both of us. We’ll be fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She disappears into the bathroom and I hear water running as I get comfortable on the bed. When she comes out, she’s wrapped in a fluffy white robe. Is she naked under that robe? She ignores the TV and turns on her side away from me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re staring,” she says and I smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re nice to look at,” I respond and she turns over to glare at me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why? You’ve been starin’ at me every time you think I’m not looking for a week.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She lies on her back, looking at the ceiling. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t mind,” I say, rolling over on my side and looking down at her. She looks almost shy. Definitely sweet. Sexy. Gorgeous. “I like it, Y/n.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dean.” The way she says my name does something special to me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Y/n. I wanna kiss you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes go wide and her jaw drops a little. “I-” She squeezes her eyes closed and her lips twitch a little before she opens her eyes and nods.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I lean down and press my lips to hers. Start soft. I don’t wanna scare her off...but fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone as much as I wanna fuck her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gasps into my mouth as I move my hand to the back of her neck and tilt her head back. Her tongue tastes so fuckin' good. Her moans as I start trailing kisses down her neck and opening up the robe enough to get my hand on her. Fuck she's nude under the robe, her tits are immaculate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yeah," she whispers, barely audible, before her hand buries in my hair and she tugs. That feels so fucking good. Fuck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I retaliate with a hard suck to her collarbone before leaning back and grabbing the robe, pulling it open completely and looking down at her. Nipples are all hard and begging to be played with. Pussy's got a full bush but I don’t mind it. She wasn't expecting to get railed today...and a little hair never hurt nobody.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I lean down and suck one nipple into my mouth, reaching over to pluck at the other with my thumb and first finger. She twists a little under me, writhes and whimpers. I pinch the thing nice and hard as I bite down on the other. She arches under me and shrieks my name. Fuck yes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I keep up the torture for a few moments, pulling and biting and licking and sucking until she's rolling her hips against air, searching for relief. Oughta give her something to fuck herself on, huh? I put my thigh right against her cunt, but I don’t move or stop playing with her tits. She goes still, though, her lower half frozen and her upper half vibrating with need that she's trying to keep in check.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What do I-" she whispers and I'm about to pull back and tell her when she rolls her hips, rubbing her pussy down my thigh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Good girl," I mumble against her boob.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's really going at it. I can feel my jeans starting to get damp. She's getting close. I can tell from her breathing, from the way she’s desperately grabbing at me. Not yet, baby.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I pull back abruptly and stand, untying my boots and kicking them off. She watches me as I pull my clothes off and I can <em>just </em>hear her breath hitch when I pull my pants off. I wrap my hand around my cock and smile at her. “You good, Y/n?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Y-yeah, yes, it’s just…”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Been a while?” I guess, kneeling on the bed and leaning over her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes. It’s...been...a very long time,” she whispers. She makes a high-pitched noise as I run the tip of my cock along the split in her lips, rubbing hard against her clit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t worry. I’ll make it good.” She reaches out and grabs me, holding my arms as I slide the tip back down to her entrance and start to push in. She’s tight as hell. I don’t think I’ve had a bitch as tight as Y/n in forever. She wasn’t lying that it’s been a long time for her. Jesus fucking Christ.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I lay my body out over hers and start giving shallow thrusts. She lets out a soft ‘okay’ with a moan before scratching her nails down my back and grabbing a handful of my asscheek. I let out a growl and bite at her neck. She repeats the motion with her other hand and pulls me deeper with both hands on my ass.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, that's good,” she whispers, tilting her hips and pulling harder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I kiss her hard and start thrusting harder, long strokes that make her moan and scream and cry. She starts lifting her ass to meet my thrusts, bucking under me and tangling her fingers in my hair to pull at my hair and fuck if I don’t just love that shit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's good. Better than just another hole. She's, I don’t know, feels more like she actually wants me than just wants my dick...and I haven't had that in a very long time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I'm a demon. Why do I want that? Why do I want a woman who cares about me? Why do I care that she wants me?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Dean, please," she begs me and I just...fuck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I drop my hand to her patch of curls and thumb at her clit as I let myself get closer to cumming. I pull back to look down into her face, watching the look of bliss cross her face as her cunt clenches and flutters around my cock. Fuck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I move away from her clit and wrap my hand lightly around her neck and kiss her hard as I hammer into her. I fill her up, twitching against her walls and gasping into her mouth. I pull out and watch as cum drips out of her onto the robe. I don’t envy the housekeeping crew. I flop to the bed beside her, both of us panting and thinking.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She cares...about everything. She even cares about me for some fucking reason...and that feels...some way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Did I pick the wrong side? Is my side the wrong side?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I stare at the ceiling and lick my lips. "Okay. I wanna care," I say quietly. "I wanna fix it. I wanna fix everything. So...we need to go to Kansas."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Welcome Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Summary</strong>: Dean and Y/n head to the Bunker to get Sam on board with the plan to fix things.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Story Warnings</strong>: bit of post-apocalyptic angst, mentions of character deaths, mentions of dubcon sex,</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>I park Y/n's Mercury outside the Bunker and look out the windshield at the big iron door. "Gonna need you to knock, sweetheart. Me and iron don't get along anymore."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She nods. "Of course." She gets out of the car and crosses to the door as I get out and cross my arms over my chest as she pounds her fist into the metal. "Sam! It's...It’s Y/n! Open the door!" It takes a few minutes but the door eventually opens a smidge. I can see the muzzle of Sam’s gun poke through and point at Y/n, but she doesn’t flinch about it. She says something real quiet. I think I hear “Don’t say anything” but I’m not sure.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The door opens the rest of the way and Sam steps into the doorway, squinting a little at the sunlight. His hair is way long, past shoulder length. He’s lookin’ like Fabio with a thick beard. Dude looks like shit. “Dean?” His voice is all croaky. Wonder when the last time he talked to anybody was?</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hey, Sammy. You look like shit, man.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“How did he-” he starts and I shrug as I step closer.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"I'm still a demon. But...I'm here." He'd eat it up if I said 'I wanna care' but...I just don't wanna give him the satisfaction, even if it looks like he needs a little satisfaction in his life.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Can we take this inside? I'm feeling a little exposed," Y/n says and Sam tears his eyes away from me long enough to nod at her and step back inside.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"You grab a pair of scissors and I can take care of that mop on your head before we get started, baby brother," I volunteer as I follow him into the Bunker. Y/n closes the door behind us as we start down the staircase.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"I think we need some coffee," Y/n says from the landing. "Sam, will you show me to the kitchen so I can make us some?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"You know wh-" Sam clears his throat and nods. "-at, that's a good idea. Dean…don't touch anything."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>This is my Bunker too, asshole.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Be quick about it. I get restless, who knows which books I might open."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I look around as they disappear into the hall. It's not dirty, but it's not clean. Not organized in Sam's specific nerdy way. Sam's OCD must've taken a rest when he gave up on...well, on everything.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So...you wanna be a hunter again all of a sudden?" Sam asks as he and Y/n walk back in with coffee in those small porcelain cups.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He has been helping me on my last few-" Y/n starts but I don’t really like Sam's tone so I interrupt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You know I've never been able to say 'no' to a hot chick asking for help."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, when you’re trying to get laid,” he snaps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop,” Y/n says as sets the coffee down. “I realize there’s some issues for you two to work out, but this is not a productive use of our time. Dean is here to help us. Let him help.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Help? Nah, I’m here to save your asses.” Sam gives Y/n a pointed look and I laugh. “Come on, you <em>just </em>met her in person! You <em>can’t </em>be upset that I got her first.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes go a little wide and Y/n clears her throat. “Again, this is not the time,” she says. She sits down beside me and gives me a little bit of a side-eyed look. “Sit down, Sam. Let’s talk about what you need to get out on the table in order to work together again.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Work together? You say it like it’s easy...Y/n.” He hesitated on her name. Why did he hesitate on her name? “He’s a demon. My brother is a demon and he’s--I begged him to come back. Castiel begged him to come back and now, all these years later, he just...you just show up with him and you think we can all work together and everything’ll be fine?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I didn't say everything will be fine. I said 'Sit down'," she demands and he sighs before taking a seat across from us.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Somebody's got her big girl pants on," I joke.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Shut up, Dean." She turns a little to glare at me before turning her attention back to Sam. "Look, this is obviously not ideal. Ideal would have been Dean never becoming a demon and Crowley never taking over the Earth. Ideal would have been Heaven sticking around to help instead of hiding like cowards behind their locked gates. Ideal would have been finding any other way to deal with Abaddon-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"And Metatron." Sam picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip. "Castiel trusting Metatron was the first domino."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Domino?" Y/n whispers, looking down for a minute before she catches Sam's eyes and glares at him. "Yes, that was the first domino, Sam, but it wasn’t the last. Neither was it the biggest. And Castiel did everything he could to make up for his mistake and at least he didn't choose to hide in the Bunker like <em>you</em>. He went out and tried to save people from Crowley's monsters while you locked yourself away just like the Angels did. Do you really think you're on some sort of...high horse right now? Because you aren't."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I snort out a laugh. "Burn!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The glare turns back to me. "You have nothing to celebrate either, Dean. You've spent just as long hiding as Sam has."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Hiding? I wasn't hiding. I was right out there in the world-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Drowning in booze and cooze and allowing everything we've fought for to get destroyed by Crowley," Sam snaps. "Everything Dad fought for. Everything <em>Bobby </em>fought for. It all went down the drain while you hid in whiskey and women and-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I didn't want to keep trying when it seemed so futile! Is that really so unreasonable?" I snap right back. "How could I have known it would get this bad? How could I have known we'd lose Jody? How could I have known we'd lose Cas? You want me to say 'I wish I could take it back' but I can't say that because my soul is just starting to rebound and I've barely got it in me to care about Y/n and you!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam looks away. "How did she get to you? After all these years...what did she do?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don’t know how to explain it. "I don't know. She just...she just did. Showed me that this soul is still in me and caring...it might be harder now but it's not impossible. She spent a few hours reminding me all the things I did...people I was good to...and it struck a chord. I can fix this. I can fix it all."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Not alone," Y/n says, picking up her coffee cup. "None of us could do it alone. But together...we can save the world."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam runs his hand through his hair and I see his fingers get caught in knots. He really hasn't been taking care of himself. "I just don't know how I feel about working with him when he's a demon."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We need him as a demon. You don't have any Angel power on your team anymore. We need a Knight of Hell if we stand any chance against that power-tripping soul salesman and his army of monsters. We need the extra oomph."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"First Blade is also-" I start and Y/n rolls her eyes. "Hey, I know you don’t like it, sweetheart, but the Blade'll kill any-fuckin'-thing and I don’t think it should stay in the glove box for this fight, get me?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shakes her head and looks away. “I understand, Dean. I don’t like it, but I understand it...and you’re right. The First Blade is an asset...one we’re going to need. Assuming that Sam can work with you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam looks over at me and his lips tremble a bit as he searches me. “Fine. I can work with him...but after we take Crowley down-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be out of your hair forever,” I interrupt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I’m curing you,” he insists, standing. “I’m finishing what Y/n started and untwisting that soul. You agree to that and I will do whatever we need to do to finish Crowley. I get my brother back or I’m not participating.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on, Sam. My soul-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Will be cured,” Y/n says. Oh really? Just voluntelling me, huh? “Sam’s right. You need to be cured.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And if I don’t want to be cured?” I ask, eyes going narrow at her. “Because you’d think that I’d have gotten myself cured if I wanted that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Y/n tilts her head at me and smirks a bit. “You want to be cured, Dean. Or you never would have come to find me.” She’s so matter-of-fuckin’-fact. “You never would have encouraged me to tell you everything you’ve done that showed that you could still care. You never would have told me that we needed to come here and get your brother on board.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You want to care, remember? Caring is infinitely harder with a twisted and broken soul.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I suck air through my teeth and nod. “Yeah, well, have you even thought about the fact that I will be in agony if you fix me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dean,” Sam starts and I shake my head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve been a demon for five <em>years</em>. Five years of damn-near indiscriminate murder and violence and some sex where the consent could loosely be described as ‘dubious’ and you know that would <em>kill </em>me once you make me into the man I used to be.” Sam and Y/n exchange a look. “Once you make me the man who cares. You want me to live like that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It takes a minute, but they both nod. “Yes. The old you would want to be you again, whether it hurt or not,” Y/n says and Sam lets out a ‘yeah’. They really want me back to the old me, huh? Fine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fine. You want me to go back to the dickbag I used to be, fine. I’ll let you cure me. If we kill Crowley. If not, I stay like this...I stay happy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You aren’t happy. But fine. If we don’t kill Crowley, you’re probably the only one who’s going to make it out of New York, so...it’s reasonable to agree to that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don’t want them to die. The idea of Crowley killing either of them makes the Mark burn and rage radiates through my body. I roll my shoulders back and rub at the Mark. “You’re not gonna die, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let that happen.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam scoffs and shakes his head. “Wow. Who would have guessed that a pretty face would be the key to saving Dean’s soul?” He starts walking away. “I’m gonna go shower. Don’t let him touch anything.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I flip him off as he disappears into the hallway and Y/n rolls her eyes at me. “What? I’m a demon so I’m not allowed to be a little childish?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re allowed to be whatever you want, Dean. You’re choosing to be a little childish and that’s fine...because you’re choosing to be a little childish <em>here</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I walk over and look down into her eyes. “And if I wanted to be a little more adult? With you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sam is-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“In the shower and then getting rid of his Depression Mane. We’ve got forty-five minutes, at least.” I reach out and caress her cheek. “Wanna go see if my memory foam mattress still remembers me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She licks her lips and reaches up to run her fingers through my hair. “Not right now. We need to figure out the best way to go against Crowley and his monsters.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Why do I have a feeling that Sam’s the reason she doesn’t wanna fuck now? I step back and her hand drops. “What’s up with you and my brother?” She tilts her head and her eyebrows come together. “For this being the first time y’all are meeting, you don’t seem like strangers.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She leans back against the table and looks over at me. “What are you accusing me of, Dean?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not sure, actually. Just feels hinky.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve never set my foot in this bunker and, as far as I am aware, Sam hasn’t left it in years except to get supplies. We’ve spoken through email. We’re friends. Are you threatened?” I hate that smug fuckin’ tone. “Because my bond with you is obviously a much more sincere and profound thing. You don’t have to be threatened.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not threatened,” I growl. “I’m suspicious. There’s a fuckin’ difference.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me, almost bored. “‘Suspicious’? What do you have to be suspicious about? You brought us here, not me. You decided to bring Sam into this before I even had a chance to process that we might need him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I take a deep breath and sigh it out. She’s right. She didn’t try to get us here. So, was she avoiding Sammy? No...that’s stupid. Am I being paranoid?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All right, I’m gonna go get something to eat. I assume he’s still got food in this place somewhere.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dean.” I stop halfway into the hallway but I only give her the benefit of my peripheral attention. “If we make it through this, if <em>I</em> make it through this...I would like to see how well that memory foam remembers us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know how much I’ll be interested by then. You make it through the fight, I’m gonna get cured...no fun to be had with-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll still be with you...fun or not. No matter what happens,” she promises.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And I believe her.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Winchester Stupid is Synonymous With Brave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Summary</strong>: Dean's suspicions about Y/n are more than a little founded.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><strong>Story Warnings</strong>: bit of post-apocalyptic angst, mentions of character deaths, Mark-induced rage, lots of lying, the big reveal (I'll put it in the tags if you want to ruin it for yourself),</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>My room looks like a damn shrine. I'm munching on a bologna sandwich, which is weird because Sam hasn't eaten bologna since he was a teenager, looking around the walls. My albums are just where I left them, my Purgatory ax, shotguns on the wall. Shit, he even left the note on the bed.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Why are you snooping?" Sam asks as he walks up.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"How can I snoop through my <em>own </em>stuff?" I ask before I turn to him. He’s shaved and lopped off half of his hair. It's up to his chin again. Better.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"I don't want you getting mustard on everything. Get out of there."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>I shake my head and shove the rest of the sandwich into my mouth, wiping mustard off of my fingers on my jeans...and then I drop my weight onto my bed and look up at him. "Wha's goin' on wif you an' Y/n?" I ask around the mouthful. He hates when I talk with my mouth full. Too bad.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"What do you mean?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"You just met her today, right?" I ask. He nods. "She's never been here before?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Y/n has never been here before, Dean."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"What is it about that sentence that bugs me?" I stand and look away. "Same kinda thing that bugs me about the way you two interact."</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"What do you mean?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>I roll my eyes. "You don't act like strangers, Sam. You act like you know her, like she's been here, like she's been around you. You really want me to believe that she's never set foot in this bunker and never met you in person but she feels comfortable ordering us both around and snapping on you about the high horse you always saddle yourself on?"</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He sighs. “I’ve only talked to Y/n through email, never in person. She’s never been here before.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“And how’d she get your email? Not something she’d just stumble on.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“From Cas, before he died.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Oh really? Lying dickbags. “From Cas? You sure about that?”</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He swallows and refuses to meet my eyes. “I...I assume. I never really asked her where she got it from.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right.” I don’t believe that in the slightest. I step up to him and look up into his eyes. “If I find out you’re lying to me, I’m gonna take you both apart...limb by limb, joint by joint, healing you just enough to keep you alive as I strip you down to the studs like Lucifer did and I will enjoy <em>every </em>second of it.” He doesn’t respond, but I’m not really expecting him to. “Come on. Let’s go get a game plan going, brother.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He follows quietly. Bitch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Crowley’s got a mansion in Greenwich Village. There are always dozens of monsters there,” Y/n says.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ve been by his mansion in Greenwich Village?” I thought she was avoiding Crowley because she’s not brave and stupid enough to go against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. But I’ve heard from other hunters who weren’t as smart.” She looks over at me with a bit of a glare. “Are you going to keep questioning my knowledge and where I obtained it, or are we going to do this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nah. Keep goin’. Even though we all know the plan here is gonna be ‘Dean takes the First Blade to Crowley’s nasty face’, but okay.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She keeps talking. I check out. I know the plan enough...and Sam reminds me on the drive to New York. I was right, though. Sneak in, find Crowley on the fourth floor, gank him. Not hard in theory...bit harder in practice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>We kill a dozen or so vamps and demons on the way up the floors. There’s a door with an ornate etching on it. I point at it. That’s definitely Crowley’s office. We head to the door, Sam slowly turns the doorknob, and we all slowly enter the office. There’s a big wood desk and a big leather chair turned around. He’s probably sitting there like a damn Bond villain. We turn the chair and...he’s not there. It’s empty.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello, Boys.” We turn around as the door slams behind us. “Welcome to New York.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There he is. “Heya, Crowley.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Well, it is certainly nice to see you, Dean, but I'm assuming you're not here to take me up on my offer."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What gave it away?" I ask, holding up the First Blade.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Crowley smirks. "Mostly...Moose's haircut." He chuckles and takes a drink of a glass of scotch as a bunch of vamps and shifters surround us. "Well, this has an all too familiar feel to it. Me...and mine...against Team Free Will."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I shrug. "Well, we might not have an Angel on the team anymore, but I think a Knight of Hell with the First Blade more than makes up for it."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What do you mean? Of course you have an Angel on the team." He points at Y/n with the hand holding his glass. "Isn't that right, Castiel?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He's trying to distract you, Dean," Y/n says immediately and I'm...the Mark is pounding on my arm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you mean?” I demand, glaring at the King.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You really haven't noticed?” Snarky bullshit asshole prickfaced fucking- “She’s not <em>that </em>different. She's just sans the wings and add the fun pillows."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cas? No fuckin’-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” I turn to glare at Y/n. “What is he talking about?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing. He’s trying to fracture your focus!” Sam shouts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Oh, God, is she fucking...is she Cas? No, Cas is dead. Cas is dead, but she fights a bit like…</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a loss of me that happens when I let the Mark take over. When the rage takes over and it’s just flashes. The monsters attack...or I attack them, I’m not sure which. But I know I tear through them like tissue paper. Sam and Y/n both take a few down with their Angel blades, but I take the rest. When it’s down to us and Crowley, I grab him by his tie and jam the First Blade into his heart.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well...didn’t think it’d go like this,” he says, looking down at the blade.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I always knew you’d go out like this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I watch the last sparks of his twisted soul before pulling the Blade from his body and turning to look at Y/n and Sam. Y/n is already on her way out the door. Sam is snooping around Crowley’s desk. I follow Y/n out. She’s nowhere to be seen, but she’ll have to come down to the car eventually. ‘Eventually’ is about twenty minutes later. Twenty minutes of me standing here, thinking through the way Y/n and Sam were with each other.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Was he tellin' the truth?" I ask, leaning back against the hood of the Mercury, arms crossed over my chest. "Are you Cas?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She takes a deep breath and nods. "Technically. Mostly."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What does that mean?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Means I'm both. All the stories I told you about you, all the stories we told you about Y/n...let me tell you one final one." I nod...so does she. "When Hell came to Earth and the monsters rose up against the humans en masse, I teamed up with a hunter: Y/n. She was good, fast, agile in ways Jimmy Novak couldn't even dream of...but there were too many. We were quickly overwhelmed by demons. My grace was waning, but her life was waning faster. I couldn't heal her from where I was. She asked me to possess her, just long enough to heal her fully. I agreed. It should have taken no more than ten minutes but…"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks away from me before they continue. "Heaven closed the gates while I was still within her. Cut me off from every bit of my celestial powers. I was trapped...on Earth and in this vessel. But she was still here. Not 'chained to a comet' as Jimmy would say, but still a secondary presence in her own body. I never meant to take her over...and I tried to give her control back but she can't...my presence is more dominant and she can't maintain control for very long."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So all those stories about me...that was you, Cas...bein' in awe of me?" I ask and they nod. "And the hotel room?" He looks away. Oh, holy fuckin'...I fucked Cas? "<em>Castiel</em>. Was it you?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Yes,” he whispers. “Though...she was coaching me on what to do."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What the fuck?!" I explode, jumping up from the hood. "Do you know how fuc--what kind of Revenge of the Nerds, fake-out bullshit is this?! You should have fuckin' told me!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I was not expecting this to happen, Dean. <em>You </em>instigated the interaction. What was I supposed to-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You say 'no'! You turn me down! You say 'no, I'm actually a <em>guy </em>and I don't want to fuck a-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I <em>did </em>want to, Dean," Cas interrupts and I almost flinch at the hard look in her eyes. "And I'm not a guy. I never was, even when I was in Jimmy Novak, though I do understand why you have a hard time distinguishing due to your binary gender constraints."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yeah, I can definitely hear the Cas in those words now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You wanted...you wanted that? Me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The fact that this surprises you is a terrible injustice, Dean.” Cas steps in front of me again and looks up into my eyes. “It took me a while to identify the feeling, the warmth in my chest when I thought about you. The pride I felt when you did something extraordinary, the way I wanted to be extraordinary for you. I rebelled for you, cared about the world for you. I think that’s why it hurt so much when you stopped caring. I would have gone the same way Sam did, hid away and given up on everything, but Y/n wouldn’t let me. She made me keep fighting.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What feeling?” I ask, and it’s almost...a whisper of a question.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Love. I love you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That can’t be right.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t know what you’re feeling, Cas. You’re-you’re an Angel, not-”</p>
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  <p>“I have a very knowledgeable human female in my head who assures me that I identified the emotion correctly.”</p>
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  <p>“Lemme talk to her,” I demand and Cas does the head-tilt thing and how did I not <em>notice </em>that shit?! “Let me talk to her.”</p>
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  <p>He sighs and his eyes go unfocused for a minute before they focus again. “Yeah?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“W-what have you been tellin’ him?”</p>
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  <p>She chuckles. “Castiel isn’t a ‘him’. You really gotta get past that. They’re in me, so that makes them a ‘she’ if you’re going by the parts they currently have control of.” She sighs and licks her lips. Oh, she definitely has a completely different vibe than Cas. “I have been riding shotgun in my own body with Castiel at the wheel 70% of the time for five years, dude. I have spent years listening to Castiel think about you. <em>Years</em>.”</p>
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  <p>Oh, attitude.</p>
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  <p>“She loves you. She mourned you. She was <em>livid </em>when she saw that car...and watching you in that bar, chatting up that skinny little dude in the hot pants...” She laughs. “I had to take over because Castiel started <em>crying</em>.”</p>
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  <p>“So that was <em>you </em>I was talkin’ to in Alabama?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She chuckles. “Yeah. A bit. I got tired about halfway through the conversation. Cas took over about the time you took offence to the ‘out of commission’ line.”</p>
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  <p>I bite my lip and look away. “And you’re just <em>okay </em>with this, with the fact that Cas stole your body and used it to fuck a demon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She didn’t fuck ‘a demon’.” She did not just do air quotes. “She fucked <em>you</em>. She fucked the man she’s been in love with since the Apocalypse. And she didn’t steal anything. I invited Castiel in. It’s not her fault that she got stuck in me...and really, she’s the only reason I’m still alive so…”</p>
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  <p>“It’s so fuckin’ weird that you keep callin’ him ‘she’.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs at me. “No, no, don’t roll your eyes at me, bitch. I knew Castiel in Jimmy fuckin’ Novak for, like, six years and you want me to just be okay with him being a woman now?”</p>
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  <p>“You didn’t seem to mind Castiel’s parts when you were balls-deep in them.”</p>
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  <p>I run my hand over my face and shake my head. “This is not okay. I thought I was fucking <em>you</em>, not Cas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs and licks her lips. “You were feeling things...and you weren’t feeling them for me.” She sighs again. “Look, I’m tired. Can’t really maintain a conversation for long. Are you done talking?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. You know what? I’m just fuckin’ done.” I start walking away from her. I’m done with all of this. Fuckin’ did what I came to do. They can fix the rest of this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dean, wait!” Y/n runs after me, but I’m sure it’s Cas again...has that tone. “You said you were going to let us cure you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I turn on him and glare, poking him in-between the boobs with the First Blade. “Oh, fuck that. You have done nothing but <em>lie </em>to me since I met you and you immediately got Sam to lie to me <em>for </em>you so you can take that cure and shove it because I am going nowhere with you. I am doing nothing with you. I killed Crowley. I did more than my part and now I’m gonna go find someone to fuck that’s not a lying Angel in the vessel of a bitch.”</p>
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  <p>Sadness fills her eyes. His eyes. <em>Their </em>eyes. Two people in there. "Dean, please."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Save it."</p>
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  <p>I walk away...and they let me. It’s not like Cas could stop me. He’s human. He’s her. He’s Y/n and he fucking duped me for weeks. How did I not see it? How did I not notice? How did I fuck him and not see that it was Castiel?</p>
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  <p>Sam calls me when I’m about halfway through a bottle of tequila in a bar full of demons in Manhattan. I don’t answer. The fourth time he calls, I turn the ringer off. Fuckin’ lying piece of shit just like Cas. Thinks I’m gonna go back to that fucking bunker and let him shoot me full of blood and just be his Dean again and they can both stick it because I’m not playing their game.</p>
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  <p>And it doesn’t matter that Castiel thinks he’s in love with me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fuck. Cas is a woman...and she loves me. Why do Angels have to be so fuckin’ complicated? And why would he love me? <em>She</em>. Fuck. This was so much easier when I was thinking about Y/n instead of Castiel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I rub at the Mark as it starts tingling. I’m so pissed about this shit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dean Winchester. I hear you’re the reason we don’t have a king anymore,” a voice to my left says.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I nod and turn to her. Black eyes and a pretty face. “Added ‘regicide’ to my resume. You got a problem with that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not at all, handsome. Crowley was a tyrant, even by Hell standards. Can I buy you a drink?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I lick my lips and run my eyes down her body. She’s pretty hot. Might work to get my mind off of Y/n and Cas. “Why don’t we just go somewhere else? Have a little fun?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She's not a little fun, though. I mean, not until I disembowel her with the First Blade. Even that pisses me off a bit...because it makes me think of Cas. I put down the Blade for almost two weeks for him, <em>them</em>!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Fucking <em>PRONOUNS</em>!</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They, they, they. It's they and them and their. Or...fuck, it's 'she', mostly, isn’t it? 70% of the time, right? That’s what Y/n said. I was dealing with just Cas 70% of the time and I was dealing with Cas as a female and that means she and her. Cas isn’t Jimmy anymore.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even when Cas was Jimmy, easier to say the name than switch pronouns, Cas was still...Cas has always been like that. I should have known it was Cas from the beginning because...well, badass, righteous, those moves with the Angel blade...the way they looked at me like I was something worth saving. How could Cas still think I’m worth saving?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pull out my phone with a blood-covered hand and listen to Sam’s voicemails. “<em>I’m sorry we lied. We didn’t think you'd take it well. Especially after you’d already...you know...with her. I wasn’t really...I just wanted my brother back, Dean. I want you home. We can fix this. We can work through this together.</em>"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They're all like that. Apologizing. Begging me to come back. Begging to fix me.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don't call him back until I'm back behind the wheel of the Impala, days later. "Where’s Cas?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Sam sighs a little. "She's with me. We're back at the Bunker."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How long have you known? Because you aren't having the same trouble with the pronouns I've been having."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Since it happened. I still slip up sometimes but...Cas emailed me immediately. I wasn't...I wasn't answering the phone for a while."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"So you had years to reconcile that Cas is a chick now. And you didn't think to warn me?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You'd already fucked her by the time you came home, Dean. And why does it matter if she used to be a guy? You fucked a lot of guys over the last five years."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How does he even know that shit? "It's not the same!" I argue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"How? How is it not the same? If the problem you're having is the fact that Cas used to be a man, why? Why is that a problem when you have fucked literal-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"It's because it's Cas!"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Why does that bug you, though? Cas has been in love with you since-" Shut the fuck up with that word, Sam. "-the Apocalypse and anyone paying attention would know that. Cas didn’t rebel for <em>me </em>or humanity or-"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Oh, shut up, man! I can't look at our-our whole friendship through a lens of…" I run my hand down my face and sigh. Cas always had faith in me. I never would have guessed it was because he was in love with me. "This shit is just really fucked up."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"You're right, but...I just...please, come home."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sam, can you hand me the phone?” Y/n’s voice comes through the phone, but it’s Cas. 70% of the time, that voice is Cas. “Dean, it’s Castiel.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Now you tell me,” I snap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighs into the phone. “I’m sorry, Dean. I regret deceiving you about who I am and I have no excuse beyond fear of rejection. But this was not Sam’s fault. It was mine. I begged him to keep my identity a secret because I knew that you would react poorly. I knew you’d react poorly to my current situation from the moment I saw you in Montgomery. This is one of those rare times when I wish I hadn’t been right.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t act-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t interrupt.” What the fuck? “I lied to you. I deceived you. I had good reason, but it was still the wrong thing to do...but Sam was simply following my directive. Don’t take this out on him. It was my fault. Please. I...I know I was getting through to you. I could feel your soul starting to lighten. Please, let Sam cure you. I will leave and you will never have to see me again. I’ll leave. Just come home.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I hang up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I turn the engine over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I start driving.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I'm halfway through Colorado before I realize I'm heading home...back to Lebanon...back to the Bunker.</p>
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